


Sketch of an Encounter

by LainFyrs



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: AU - art school, M/M, References to Drug Use, Secret Santa, artist!kieren, minor background characters - Freeform, model!simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LainFyrs/pseuds/LainFyrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time where he couldn’t even imagine attending university, considering that Roarton didn’t have one of its own and that neither of his folks had gone. But three years later he was not only a student at a London university, but also majoring in Fine Arts. And to top it all off? Spending eight weeks abroad in New York, fully paid for, in order to get a special diploma in figure drawing and anatomy. His high school art teacher would be rolling in her grave, if she was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketch of an Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> My In The Flesh Tumblr Secret Santa gift. The prompt was: An AU in which Kieren is an art student in a still life class. His assignment is to sketch Simon. Minor liberty was taken, changing it to a figure drawing class as I did not feel that turning Simon into an inanimate object was going to be helpful in any romantic sense.

_“Move over, I can’t see him!” “He’s not going away Mom, just wait a minute.” “Kieren? Kieren, can you see me?”_

“Yeah Mom I can see you just fine. Where’s dad?” Kieren smiled at his phone screen, the skype video blurring as his mother tried once more to push her face into the webcam’s view. Jem’s face grew closer in the video, Sue making an exasperated noise in the background as she moved away from the computer.

 _“Out at the shops. That new comic movie – the one with the aliens and the weird talking rat? Came out on blu-ray last week so he had to go get it.”_ She shrugged. “Guardians of the Galaxy.” He pointed out, glancing at his watch. “And raccoon, not rat. Its class time now, but I’ll talk to you later, alright?”  
  
Jem waved at him “ _Kay Kier, see you!”_ The video feed closed, and Kieren slipped his phone into a pocket before picking up his bag from the step next to him.

Normally the steps leading up to the main building of the Art Institute of New York would not be an ideal location for a call with the fam, but the end of July at the AI was the quietest time the school was the entire year. Traffic in the halls was limited to artists in residence, graduate students, and the occasional fine arts undergrad who had been roped into some summer project or other. Kieren did not fit into any of these categories - technically, he didn’t even attend the school. No, there was a special title that he held when within the esteemed walls of the institution: foreign exchange student.

There was a time where he couldn’t even imagine attending university, considering that Roarton didn’t have one of its own and that neither of his folks had gone. But three years later he was not only a student at a London university, but also majoring in Fine Arts. And to top it all off? Spending eight weeks abroad in New York, fully paid for, in order to get a special diploma in figure drawing and anatomy. His high school art teacher would be rolling in her grave, if she was dead.

Slipping his bag’s strap over a shoulder, Kieren made his way up the stairs and into the building, nodding at the security guard seated by the entrance before heading towards the main stairwell.

“You’re running a little late, dummy!” A voice came from behind him as he walked through the doorway to the floor the art studio, and a body barrelled into his back. Kieren grunted, bracing himself against the Amy’s weight so that they both didn’t topple to the floor.

“We get our models for the final today, and the last thing I want is for us to be stuck with anything but the handsomest man of the bunch just because we aren’t the first to arrive.” She huffed, untangling herself from Kieren and sweeping down the hall, her long skirt swirling behind her. A few moments after another person followed, Philip nodding briefly at Kieren before continuing to the classroom. He was fairly sure that Philip would have no problem with their model being the ugliest person on the face of the planet if it meant that Amy would pay attention to him just a little bit more.

Despite all being students in London arts universities, Kieren’s path had not crossed either of his friends’ until their journey to the States. Amy and Philip both attended the University of the Arts, with Amy at the fashion school and Philip at the Chelsea college, studying media arts. He wasn’t entirely sure how they’d met, though he was aware that they’d been at least sometimes romantically inclined since their first year. Amy had found the application for the exchange program, and either she’d dragged Philip along or he’d followed. With less than 30 students in the figure drawing class, and the only three from the UK, it took no time at all for them to bond.

Following the couple, Kieren shuffled into the classroom; despite Amy’s fears, they were not the last to arrive, and no one had been assigned their models as of yet. Settling down in one of the chairs, he pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and a sketchbook, glancing up at the teacher as she ignored the rest of the class. He strongly suspected Ms. Martin did not sign up to spend her summer with a bunch of foreign students.

Suddenly there was an elbow jabbing him in the side, and when he turned Amy had sat herself beside him and was staring intently at a group of strangers that were seated in the corner. The 10 models varied in age, with the oldest being a women at least in her 40s, and the youngest a man maybe a year younger than they were. The rest were of all body types and genders, though Kieren assumed that they all had at least some experience as a figure model, otherwise the university would not have hired them.

As he examined them, one of the male models made eye contact with him and smiled. Embarrassed, he looked back down into his backpack and rummaged within to find a pen. Next to him Amy giggled and poked him again, earning her a jab with the writing utensil upon its discovery.

“Okay, is everyone here?” Ms. Martin stood from her seat behind her desk, frowning as she glanced at the people in the classroom. “No? Too bad then. Your groups, which you were emailed yesterday, will be assigned a model. You then have a week to create your sketch portfolio and one completed work of whatever medium you prefer. I expect you to cover a range of perspectives and positions.”

Several people in the class murmured, and Kieren jotted down the requirements on one of the sheets of paper. From the corner of his eye he watched the models as they listened to Ms. Martin, the man from before also copying down what she had said.

“Once you’ve got your model, it’s up to you to decide where and when you will meet. I will not provide extensions, as this is the final week of the course.” There were several students in the class who were either from North America, or were staying behind in the city following their exchange program, however Kieren was returning to Roarton for the rest of the summer and wouldn’t even be able to receive his completed works after they had been graded. “Groups; Halton, Kendall – You’re with…”

Ms. Martin listed the various groups, with those called standing up to greet their model. Kieren could see Amy becoming more agitated as their group was not called, until only themselves and the gentlemen who had smiled at Kieren were left

“Dyer, Walker, and Wilson, you’re with Simon Monroe.”

The man called Simon stood, approaching the trio before outstretching an arm. Philip got up first, shaking his hand firmly. “Philip, and this is Amy and Kieren.” He introduced them. Amy sprung to her feet immediately before circling the older man. Meanwhile Kieren also stood and shook his hand, Simon’s large and rough against his palm.

“Pleasure.” Simon replied, surprising Kieren with his Irish accent. “Always nice to meet folks from home now an’ then.”

He nodded, before glancing at Amy who was still examining him, a finger absently tapping at her bottom lip, before she put both hand on her lips. “Yep, you’ll do. Not quite as gorgeous as our dear Kieren here – but then again, who is? – but not hard on the eyes at all.” Kieren could feel a blush coming on, both from second-hand embarrassment, as well as Amy’s compliment (Philip was glaring at both of the other men in their circle).

“I can see that.” Simon smirked, before glancing up at the clock. “I’m free for the afternoon, so should we get it on?” he asked, motioning at their various sketchpads in their arms and on the desks. All of the other students had already left the class with their models, and Ms. Martin was packing up her own belongings, with no obvious desire to stick around. Thus, they had Simon step up to the raised platform in the middle of the room.

Pulling off the large jumper he was wearing, Simon waited until the three students had settled with their pads before asking; “Do you have positions that you’d prefer me to use, or is it up to me?” Mentally, Kieren could picture a few poses he wouldn’t mind seeing the man in, now that he could see the body under that ridiculous sweater. He also wasn’t quite sure he was wearing a sweater in the middle of summer, especially with a full-sleeved shirt underneath.

“We’ll leave it up to you. Two minute poses okay?” Philip asked, pulling out his phone to set a timer. Simon nodded, getting into position.

Over the next hour the trio worked, pausing for a couple of minutes halfway through to let Simon stretch. They didn’t chat much, but Kieren learned that he had moved overseas right after highschool, but had only begun university the year before. He studied photography, and worked as a model for the university when he wasn’t in school to help pay for his tuition. He’d only been back home once since he’d first left, about half a year before starting university.

They wrapped up after that first hour, agreeing to meet the next day after lunch for another group session. After that they would have one more, then each of them would get individual time with Simon to work on their finished piece.

\--

The next few days passed quickly, Kieren filling his sketchbook quickly and selecting from those he’d done which would become a part of his sketch portfolio. He wasn’t sure just yet what he wanted to do for his painting; while he enjoyed figure drawing and sketches, portraits were his speciality, and he wasn’t never entirely comfortable doing anything but. A painting made sense, but he couldn’t guarantee his ability to not focus too much on the face and less on his subject’s body itself.

There was also the issue of the subject itself. While he had become used to the flirting coming from Amy, it was entirely different from her mostly joking attempts. Kieren wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Simon Monroe.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t been romantically involved with anyone in the past. His sort of relationship with Rick Macy hadn’t exactly been a typical or even healthy romance, but he knew actual interest when he saw it. Or in this case, heard it.

Simon was facing away from him in this pose, as he chatted casually with Amy. As always, he wore a tight-fitting full sleeved shirt and jeans, his sock-covered feet planted firmly on the platform even as his upper body twisted into a more difficult pose. This was their last day of working as a group, and Kieren had already finished his sketch portion of the project. He was still unsure of the position he wished to use for the final project, although he did have to admit that he did enjoy this specific view of his model.

“I think Kieren has the best view of all of us.” Amy suddenly announced, looking around Simon’s legs at her friend, who frowned at her. Simon chucked, not moving from his position. “Well, I’ve always claimed I look good from all angles.”

Kieren laughed a bit at that, taking advantage of the other’s preoccupation to make a rough sketch of Simon’s back and shoulders.

Philip’s timer went off, and the three packed up, done for the day. Kieren wouldn’t be returning to the school until the morning after next, due to Amy and Philip’s private sessions taking place. Then he would wait another two days to see Simon one last time and complete his final. He wasn’t looking forward to it, both because of his lack of a plan for the piece itself, as well as it signalling the end of his time in New York.

It also meant the end of seeing Simon, who despite having only been in his life for three days had managed to become a constant, even worming himself into spending time together outside of their sessions.

“Are we still good for dinner?” Simon asked him as he pulled his jumper back on. Kieren nodded. The four of them had gone to lunch the day before, and after their session he’d asked if anyone was interested in going out to eat that night as well. When Amy and Philip had turned them down for their date night, Kieren had expected the plan to fall apart, but Simon had been insistent.

They ended up going to a pizza place called Vezzo a few blocks down from the institute. It continued to amaze Kieren how cheap some foods were in the US. The pizza the two of them shared as well as their drinks was less than half of what the same would cost in London, and still cheaper than most meals back in Roarton.

“It costs less, yeah, but the quality can be pretty shit if you don’t know where to look.” Simon told him as he picked up another slice. “When I first moved over here I was down in California, and everywhere you turned it was total rubbish. Got food poisoning at least once ‘fore I figured it out.” He chucked, taking a bite.

“California, really? A little hot for your and your sweaters.” Kieren pointed out, motioning to today’s monstrosity, which was an ugly grey corded turtleneck.

Simon shrugged, preoccupied with swallowing the mouthful he had taken. “Don’t have much choice. Only other option is to freeze whenever I go into the shade or the temp drops below 25 Celsius.” Kieren frowned at that. He’d figured that his strange jumper obsession was either a fashion choice or a way of dealing with self-esteem issues, not that he found it cold even during the summer. Simon continued; “I had a rough time a few years back, and it left my immune system pretty fucked. It got better as I did, and I gained a couple stone, but the sweaters help.”

Kieren didn’t pry. He had his own reasons for wearing long sleeves all year round.

“Makes modelling a little difficult obviously, since the studios are usually a little on the chilly side. Tight shirts are nice an’ all, but not all artists like a layer of clothes between themselves and their subject.” He continued, glancing at Kieren. He shrugged, “Not that I care much. If it’s such a big deal they can get another model whenever the hell they like. You don’t seem to mind.”

Kieren paused, considering it. “Figure drawing isn’t really my thing.” He admitted. “Back home my focus is portraits.” He took another bite of his pizza.

“Well once you’re finished drawing my rear, maybe you can do my face too.”

By the time Kieren had cleared his airway of the pizza that had decided to lodge itself there, Simon had reached a hand out to steady his shoulder as he coughed. Once his breathing settled, he pulled the hand away but left it in the middle of their table. “I’m sorry if I caught you by surprise.” He started, watching as Kieren wiped off his mouth with his napkin. “I thought my intentions were clear and that you… felt the same.”

Kieren started. “Oh, no! Well, I mean… they’re certainly appreciated? I just don’t understand why.” Simon smiled. “To be honest? Neither do I. I’ve generally believed that relationships aren’t something for me and yet…” He paused. “There’s what I believe in… and then there’s you. I don’t know what it is about you.”

He could feel his blush spreading to his ears and down his neck, though Kieren was pleased to see that Simon’s pale face had a bit of colour that appeared, visible even in the dim light of the restaurant.

Slowly, Kieren put his own hand on the table, inches from Simon’s. At that, his smile grew and he tangled their fingers together.

\--

A few minutes before they were to meet for their final session, Kieren found himself in the studio with all of his sketches that he had not cleaned up and placed into the portfolio. Their first private session had been considerably less productive than he’d originally planned, even though they were in the room together for almost 4 hours, well into the late afternoon, and they’d ended up going out for dinner once more when they were done. He was fairly certain that Amy would have a fit if she knew what had developed between the two of them (he hadn’t seen her since their last group session), especially when that context was considered about their time together previously. He was also fairly sure that whatever she may imagine had happened within the classroom wasn’t too far off from the truth.

However, the painfully blank canvas leaning against the desk in front of him was a reminder that despite the change in their relationship, Simon was his subject and neither of them had done their job. He had one afternoon left to actually work on it with him present, and then one day beyond that before it was due.

To state it simply; he was fucked.

Most of the sketches that he’d chosen for the portfolio were front or profile; while Simon may have claimed that his backside was Kieren’s speciality, the quality of which the (many) sketches he’d made during the group sessions of that particular view were not up to his standard. So he was left with two possibilities: choose a pose from one of his already-started sketches and have Simon recreate it for him until it was half decent, or start from scratch. Either way he was fairly sure that he would not have a completed project two days from then without giving up sleep entirely.

At that moment the door to the studio opened, and a few seconds later a hand pressed to the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. “You know, I was kidding about drawing my arse, but you seem to have done quite a lot of that.” Simon chuckled, picking up one where his shirt had ridden up slightly to reveal a little bit of back. “Are you going to present a painting of it to that stuck up teacher of yours?”

He laughed, piling up the sketches and sliding them into his folder. “I think Ms. Martin would either fail me, or have an aneurism then fail me.” Standing, Kieren headed over to the canvas and placed it on an easel while Simon headed towards the platform.

He ended up asking him to cycle through poses once more, deciding that once he found one that clicked, he would just go with it and not turn back. But half an hour later he’d done nothing but lightly draw a portion of Simon’s neck and shoulder before giving up and resting his head on the wood of the stand.

“No good?” Simon stepped down from the platform, raising an eyebrow when he saw Kieren’s lack of progress. He shook his head. “Just not feeling it. Or anything really.”

They were silent for a few seconds, before Simon abruptly grabbed Kieren’s bag and held it out towards him. Confused, he grabbed it, following the older man as he took the canvas and left the room. Simon led him out of the institute, slowing down so that he could catch up.

“I think what you need is a change of scenery, and I could use a room that doesn’t have the central air set to frigid.” He told him, directing them a few blocks over to a small apartment building. When he pulled out a key, Kieren realized that they’d come to Simon’s flat, which was a third floor corner unit.

Setting down his backpack next to the front door, he watched as Simon placed the canvas on his couch and walked into another room; “Wait there, I’ll be a sec.” the door closed behind him, and Kieren looked around the decently-sized apartment, noting the many photos and film rolls piled on the dining table.

Picking one up, he examined the subjects; a pair of teenagers or young adults in worn clothes, settled on a blanket against a brick wall with a sign in front of them reading “Can’t Afford Rehab, Can’t Afford Religion, And Can’t Afford to Relapse. Please Help”. Glancing at the others, he noted a similar theme of homeless or begging people of all ages, often with similar signs. As he looked further down the pile, he noted that they became more graphic, and occasional Simon had manipulated the photos. In one case, a man stood with his face to a wall, his arms outstretched and held against the concrete surface by two police men. He had layered the photo over an image of two needles, creating a cross in which that the man was being crucified.

“My prof wanted us to choose a specific theme for the year in order to create a slideshow. Told me to pick something I resonated with.” The door opened behind him, and when Kieren turned he was presented with a shirtless Simon, wearing a pair of loose fitting sweatpants. “Considering what my life was like before I got clean, it was fitting.” He turned over one of his arms, revealing track marks that littered his forearm up to the crook of his elbow. Kieren felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked at the darker patches of skin in stark contrast to his pale complexion.

Catching the look on his face, Simon shrugged. “We all have our scars… some just tend to stick with you even after you’ve moved on.” Kieren rubbed one of his forearms, earning an understanding look.

Moving to the center of the living space, he cleared away a free area on the floor, dragging over a dining chair so that Kieren could prop up the canvas. Once they’d made the space art-friendly, Simon turned towards him with a grin.

“What do you think? If I helps I could take off my trousers too.” Kieren blushed a little, shaking his head. He walked over to where Simon stood, reaching out slowly to grab his wrist. Simon hesitated, allowing him to flip it over and examine the mess of scars along the expanse of flesh.

“Thank you. For being so open with me about stuff that I don’t think I could be with someone I’ve known for less than a week.” He told him, looking up into his eyes, which widened a bit before Simon’s face relaxed. Feeling brave, Kieren pushed up onto his toes, their lips meeting.

A hand immediately went to the back of his head, tilting it back to allow them to deepen the kiss. The wrist he had held slipped from his grasp and relocated to the side of his face, fingers skirting along his jaw as Simon reciprocated.

After a few moments he pulled away, a little breathless. Simon’s eyes were closed, and he pressed his forehead against Kieren’s.

“Are you inspired yet, or do we need to be a little more intuitive with your creative process?” He asked, leaning in for another kiss. Kieren allowed it, smiling. When he finally broke away, he grinned.

“I have just the idea.”

\--

Simon positioned his camera on a retaining wall, attempting to get a better view of the street artist that had given him permission to take some candid shots. The fall term was due to start in less than a week, and he was still looking for some final photos to add to his submission for a scholarship contest.

His original submission was going to be the same as his project had been for the past year, but his teacher had advised him to focus on his passions and what was important, and that had changed in the last few weeks. While his past and the effect it continued to have on him was still a contributing factor to what he chose to do, it was impossible to ignore the new influences and feelings that his time with Kieren had brought. His work now focuses more about life on the street in a general form; including the homeless, the lost, the passerby… as well as those who chose to make their craft and living outside the walls of the building that surrounded them.

Well, at least that’s what he decided to do instead of relentlessly stalk and photograph every young, male, attractive, and remarkably similar artist in the entire state.

After Kieren had left to return home several weeks previously, they’d kept up limited contact through regular emails and the rare skype call. The time difference made it very difficult, and while Simon had once upon a time been able to be awake at any hour, things had changed and Kieren didn’t have any such gift (he was also not a morning person, as he had learned after the painting session that had lasted well into the early hours).

There was a part of him that had believed that after he left he would lose the feelings he had towards the artist, but as people often said, he felt nothing but fonder for him as the time they were separated grew. He’d learned plenty more about Kieren through their emails and chats that they hadn’t had time to during their limited moments together; about his childhood in Roarton, his little sister Jem, as well as his relationship with Rick Macy and the fallout that it created. Just as Kieren had said, he felt truly special to be trusted with memories that he was certain very few had the privilege to know.

Putting away his camera, he thanked the street artist and walked down the street towards his apartment.

Just before he reached the entrance, his pocket began to vibrate and he pulled out his phone, frowning when he saw that it was the institute calling. “Hello?” He answered.

“ _Mr. Monroe? This is the New York Art Institute reception desk. We have something that a teacher has left for you. Could you come by and pick it up?”_ Confused, Simon agreed. Normally the only things that were left for students at the desk were summons to the dean’s office, and even then the office tended to contact students through their school email.

Postponing his return home, he walked to the AI and entered the main lobby, heading towards the reception desk. Almost immediately he noticed the large canvas leaning against the desk next to the receptionist, its appearance out of place among the papers and files that mostly inhabited the area.

“Mr. Monroe?” The reception asked as he approached, noticing his attention on the painting. He nodded, and she handed over the canvas.

He’d never seen the completed work, though he’d had an idea of what Kieren had been going for when he’d positioned him that day. His back faced the viewer, arms outstretched as if held by an invisible cross, though his hands reached up instead of hanging limply, as if he was not a sacrifice but someone who was escaping the crucifix.

It wasn’t his best work, considering he’d done it in less than 24 hours and Simon hadn’t exactly been a helpful model by interrupting his work to sneak in a kiss or two, or announce a sudden break and drag him off to his room. But for all that Kieren had complained about not feeling comfortable with figure drawing, Simon had never seen something so beautiful. At that moment he truly missed him, and was glad that he could at least have this small reminder of the brief time they had.

“…roe? Mr. Monroe? Simon?” he snapped out of his reverie, turning back to the receptionist, who held a folded piece of paper out towards him. “This note was also included.”

Simon took the letter, setting down the picture in order to open it. He smiled.

_7 at Vezzo, tomorrow night. See you soon._

**Author's Note:**

> ...and that's it! I hope you enjoyed it. All the schools and restaurants within the story are real life places, and I did my best to describe the locations as accurately as possible (Vezzo was also highly reviewed, so if you're in NY and are looking for a good pizza and pasta place for good value, maybe check it out?).


End file.
